


Knight + Prince

by violetvaria



Series: Knight + Prince AU [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), bed sharing, child!Bozer, child!Mac, medieval royalty AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: When Sir Jack Dalton was dubbed a knight, he swore an oath of allegiance to the king. However, when he meets an abused and neglected ten-year-old named Angus, he pledges his loyalty to the prince instead.Or: How Jack found a way to protect Prince Angus from his father, King James.~set in just_another_outcast's Forbidden AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Forbidden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) by [just_another_outcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast). 



> Thanks to the gifted and generous just_another_outcast for creating this AU! Reading her story [**Forbidden**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) is recommended to understand this universe.
> 
> WARNING: Non-graphic child abuse and brief descriptions of physical aftermath of abuse
> 
> Note: As I was de-aging Angus for this work, I neglected to do the same for Jack, realized the error after about eight thousand words, and didn't want to go back and fix it. Please overlook that Jack sounds older than he should. Also, please expect zero historical or cultural (or mechanical) accuracy herein.

Sir Jack Dalton moved slowly through the halls of the castle, studying the rooms in the flickering firelight. He had completed his assignment, delivering a prisoner to the dungeon, but since he was not expected back immediately, he had decided to take a few minutes to remember the palace as it had been.

When the queen was alive, she had invited her elite soldiers into the castle at least twice a year to celebrate with the royal family. Jack smiled at the memory. She had been beloved by all the men, not only for her gracious hospitality, but also because of her sincerity as she thanked them for their service.

 _Times change_ , Jack thought a little wistfully, looking around. Although the same tapestries decorated the walls, the same sconces held the carefully maintained torches, still—the palace didn’t feel the same. It felt…emptier, somehow. Colder.

_It’s late. Your imagination is just getting the better of you._

But Jack wasn’t really convinced of that.

He was preparing to head back out into the night to return to his regiment when his keen ears picked up a sound that definitely did not belong in the stillness of the castle. He paused, straining to hear, hand automatically dropping to his sword.

There is was again. It was faint, but too irregular to be the settling of masonry, too hesitant to be the skittering of a rat or mouse. Jack crept in the direction of the sound.

He nearly skulked right past the huge oaken armoire before realizing the sound was coming from inside it. He stared at the doors blankly for a moment, baffled. Then he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye and spun, brandishing his weapon in one smooth motion.

“No, please!” The plea was whispered, but it seemed loud in the silent hall.

Jack looked down. A small boy, no more than twelve years old, was holding both hands up. He was wearing the attire of a royal servant, and his dark eyes were wide as he stared at the knight.

Jack relaxed a little but didn’t sheathe his sword. “Are you alone, boy?”

“Um, y-yes, sir. Er, no, but…yes. But not—”

Jack sighed. How was this a difficult question? Maybe he needed to start with something easier.

“What’s your name?” he asked, a little more gently.

“Wilt Bozer, sir.” The boy seemed to recall that he was entrusted with certain responsibilities and straightened. “Personal valet to His Highness Prince Angus. Sir.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at that, thinking. He hadn’t seen the prince since the queen’s funeral, when the child was about five years old. He must be—about ten now? So perhaps this extremely young valet had been hired more as a playmate than a servant for the young royal.

“And what are you doing outside your quarters at this time of night, Wilt Bozer?” Jack finally slid his sword back into its scabbard, and the boy’s eyes lost some of their wide-eyed fear.

“I was…” Wilt looked away, as if not sure what to say. “Attending to my duties, sir.”

Something in the lad’s manner didn’t sit right with Jack. And he had been sure the noises he’d heard had been coming from _inside_ the armoire, not outside.

“And if I open this,” Jack gestured, keeping his voice even, “what will I find?”

Wilt’s eyes had gone wide again. “No, sir! Please don’t do that!”

Jack crouched so he was at eye level with the valet. “Son, I’m not here to get you in trouble, all right? But it sounded to me like there is something alive in that closet. Is that right?”

Wilt nodded slowly.

 _Please don’t make this night worse._ “Is it an animal?”

Jack was really, really hoping his fears were unfounded, but Wilt shook his head.

“Wilt Bozer, is there a person in that closet?”

Jack was alarmed to note that tears were forming in the dark eyes that could no longer meet his.

“Come on, lad, it’s all right. Who is it?”

Wilt sniffed. “It’s—it’s Prince Angus, sir.”

Hearing his worst fears confirmed made Jack’s heart clench, but he was still holding on to a shred of hope.

“Were you boys playing and he got locked inside accidentally?”

He knew the answer before he’d even finished the question. He gave Wilt a prodding look, and that was all it took to break the dam.

“It—it was the king, sir! He—he was so angry, and Angus said he was sorry, but the king just kept hitting him, and then he put him there—” Wilt gestured at the wardrobe, “—and he locked it and took the key with him, and he said Angus had to stay there until he came back, and Angus called for him all night, but he didn’t come, and he still hasn’t come, and I think maybe he forgot, and I tried to get the doors open, but I couldn’t, and no one can help because the king said he had to stay, and—”

The boy finally had to pause for breath, and Jack patted his shoulder, trying to keep him from hyperventilating.

“You’re saying the king…” He trailed off as Wilt nodded vigorously. There had been rumors among the soldiers, of course, of what the young prince’s life was like since the death of his mother, but Jack had chalked it up to the type of idle gossip that plagued royal houses. Then more of Wilt’s flood of information sank in.

“He called all _night_? How long has he been in there?”

Wilt’s head dropped. “Since the evening before last, sir.”

“What?!” Jack couldn’t keep the exclamation quiet as he stood to his full height. Wilt backed away a step.

“I couldn’t leave him, sir,” the boy said softly. “I couldn’t get him out, but I couldn’t leave him.”

Jack tried to get a grip on his emotions. “Of course not, lad. You did fine. But now we’re going to get him out of there, understand?”

“But the king—”

 _To hell with what the king says._ Jack barely refrained from speaking the treasonous thought aloud. “Let me worry about His Majesty, all right?” Without waiting for a response, he stepped over to the heavy doors, studying them. He tried a door, but it was indeed tightly locked. _Hmm_.

He knocked lightly, deciding he needed to warn the boy inside before attempting to break down the door. “Prince Angus?”

There was a long silence.

“Can you hear me, Your Highness?” Jack knocked again, a little louder.

And then he heard the same sound that had brought him down this hall in the first place. But this time he could identify it. It was the whimper of a very scared young child.

“Your Highness, my name is Sir Jack Dalton. I am part of the kingdom’s elite guards. I’m here with your fr—valet, Wilt Bozer. Are you able to answer me?”

He waited. After several moments, he was rewarded with a weak tap.

“All right, that’s good. Listen, we’re going to get you out of there, all right?”

Two taps this time.

“No, it will be fine. No need to worry.”

Two taps again. Jack looked at Wilt, who took a deep breath and stepped closer.

“It’s okay, Angus. There’s nobody else around. It’s dark now.” Wilt leaned in a little more, speaking in a raised whisper. “This knight seems okay. He—he seems…nice.”

Despite the situation, Jack was touched.

After another long silence, in which Jack realized he was holding his breath, there was one more tap from the inside of the armoire.

“Okay, good. Now, An—” Jack cut himself off, noticing with a start that Wilt had been familiarly using the prince’s first name, and he had almost followed suit. “Your Highness, are you able to get back away from the doors? I think the best thing to do will be to pry them open with my sword.”

Two taps.

“It might be loud, but don’t worry about that, Your Highness. I’ll make sure if the doors break that they don’t fall in on you, all right?”

Two taps again.

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Jack finally asked, trying not to sound exasperated.

One tap.

Jack turned to Wilt, eyebrows raised.

“Angus always has ideas,” the valet said proudly.

“O-kay,” Jack said slowly. “Do you think he can share with us?”

Wilt chewed on his lip. “He hasn’t—hasn’t had anything to drink,” he started hesitantly.

Jack wanted to slap himself for not thinking of this earlier. The young prince had been trapped for—what? Nearly 48 hours? He was probably dehydrated and malnourished. It was a wonder he was aware enough to communicate with them at all.

He summoned up a smile for the anxious valet. “We’ll fix that when we get him out, okay?”

Wilt stiffened his spine, looking resolute, and nodded. “Angus, do you have a plan?” Tap. “Do you need our help?” Tap. “Do you need me or the knight or both of us?”

Jack was surprised at this non-binary question, but Wilt seemed to have no difficulty in interpreting the two taps, followed after a pause by three.

“He needs you to help. And I’ll tell you what he wants.”

Jack nodded. “I’m right here.”

Wilt continued a stream of questions, and Jack marveled at how well he must know the young prince. Under Wilt’s direction, Jack wedged his sword between the double doors, managing to mostly avoid splintering the wood, and braced it against the metal bolt. Wilt said something about torque, which elicited a single tap, and Jack decided maybe he was better off not knowing.

He and Wilt were both silent as they heard slow movements inside the armoire. There was the rasping of metal, a few clinks, a creak, and then, to Jack’s amazement, he felt the door release.

“How—” he started, but Wilt yanked the doors open, and Jack just had time to put his sword away to avoid skewering the young royal.

The boy had the blond hair and blue eyes Jack remembered from years ago, but gone were the rosy cheeks and chubby hands. The child in front of him was an emaciated waif, his eyes and cheeks hollow, lips pale and bloodless. But he was holding a bit of thread and what looked like a silver buckle in his thin hands, and he was faintly smiling.

“You did it, Angus!” Wilt cheered in a whisper.

The prince’s fond gaze landed on his valet, and he tried to move forward. His cramped muscles wouldn’t cooperate, and he lurched out of the closet face first. Jack caught him before he could fall to the ground.

Before Jack could think about what he was doing, he had swept the prince into his arms and nodded at Wilt to lead the way to his quarters. Recalling himself, he looked down. “Your Highness, with your permission, I’ll assist you back to your chambers. Is that all right?”

He truly didn’t know what he’d do if the prince said no, but thankfully, Angus studied him for a moment with those sad, age-old eyes, and then he nodded once.

In the prince’s rooms, Wilt became a whirl of activity, bringing over some bread and cheese and then, at Jack’s prompting, some water. Jack unbuckled his sword with one hand, dropping it onto the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed, ignoring the years of training screaming about the social lines he was crossing and choosing instead to listen to the instincts that told him to care for this injured boy, prince or not. He held Angus carefully in his arms and helped him sip the water, which the prince tried to gulp all at once.

“A little at a time, Your Highness,” Jack murmured.

The prince took a few more sips and then looked up at Jack, a touch of youthful innocence shining in his eyes. “Angus,” he said quietly.

Jack stared, stupefied.

“He wants you to call him Angus,” Wilt supplied helpfully. “That’s what he likes to be called. When he’s with friends, anyway.”

Jack bit back a smile. “Angus it is. Let’s try a little of this bread, okay?”

The prince’s arms were still quivering—Jack was stunned he’d been able to do whatever he’d done with the closet door—and the feeling in his legs was apparently coming back. Painfully. The boy shifted in Jack’s lap, biting his lips, but he reached for the food with shaking hands.

“Wilt Bozer, can you manage to prepare a hot bath?” Jack asked, and the valet was out of the room like an arrow.

Jack chuckled. “Nice to have a friend like that, huh?” The prince blinked, seemed confused, and then looked after Wilt with something like longing.

Jack filed this reaction away for later, tearing off a small piece of bread and holding it to the prince’s lips. “Let me help you, okay? Try to eat a little.”

The prince was obviously starving, but it was hard for him to eat, even the tiny pieces that Jack offered him, interspersed with more sips of water. Jack would have liked him to finish the entire half-loaf, but Wilt came back in and announced that the bath was ready and that he’d laid out clean clothes.

Jack carried the prince into the adjoining chamber, where a huge clawfoot bathtub sat. Wilt, whom Jack was really beginning to appreciate, had managed to bring in enough hot water to fill the tub halfway. And then Jack realized that he had clearly not thought this all the way through. Angus could still barely move, and Wilt wouldn’t be able to lift the prince into the tub on his own.

_Might as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb._

“Your H—Angus, your valet and I will help you into the bath, if that’s all right.”

Scarlet colored the boy’s face, and he shook his head.

“He doesn’t let me help him with his clothes or anything,” Wilt volunteered. “You want me to wait outside?” This was directed at the prince, who nodded gratefully.

“Um, okay, but s—Angus, I think you’re going to need help,” Jack said as gently as he could. “Will you let me help you?”

Angus studied his face for another long moment. Finally, he nodded.

Wilt slipped out of the room, and Jack wondered how he got himself into these situations. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had never been in a situation even remotely similar to this one, which might explain why he was suddenly nervous. He was alone with the heir to the kingdom, the only son of their powerful and fickle king.

He looked down at the boy, who was using one hand to struggle with the ties of his overshirt. And suddenly Jack was with a vulnerable, hurting child, and he didn’t care who his parents were.

“Let me help, okay?” Jack carefully slipped the shirt over the prince’s head, untied his breeches, and lifted the boy into the steaming water, not letting his face betray his horror at the whip marks that streaked across the thin back.

Angus gasped when he felt the heat, but after only a few seconds, he relaxed and lay back, a small smile blossoming as the water eased his sore muscles.

Jack used a cloth to clean the boy’s face as well as he could, noticing the dark circles under the eyes and the skin stretched too tightly over the fine nose and delicate cheekbones. He handed the cloth to Angus, who by now could move enough to scrub the rest of his body, albeit slowly. Then he dropped the cloth and closed his eyes.

Jack let him soak, watching to make sure the prince didn’t fall asleep and slide under the water, until he noticed the small fingers starting to shrivel.

“Angus? Are you ready to get out?”

The water was only lukewarm now, so the prince nodded, allowing Jack to help him out of the water, but taking the towel to dry himself. He also dressed himself with a minimum of assistance, but Jack stayed close. The boy looked like he might fall over any second.

When the two emerged from the bath chamber, they saw that Wilt had turned down the bed and extinguished all the torches, so the only light was from a single candle at the bedside. Jack approved of the diligent valet.

At least, he did until Angus stiffened at his side and, with a squeak, dashed back into the well-lit bath chamber so fast that he tripped over his own feet. Jack had to dive to the floor to catch the boy before he cracked his head on something.

To his astonishment, the prince wrapped his arms around the knight and buried his face in the man’s shoulder, sobbing.

“Angus? Your Highness?”

Jack sat on the floor, holding the prince, rubbing his arm and making useless shushing sounds. Wilt poked his head in, looking guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice. “I forgot, Angus. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Jack demanded.

Wilt still looked guilty. “I forgot. After the—after that, Angus doesn’t like the dark. I’ll fix it, okay?” This last was spoken to the prince, but Angus didn’t look up from Jack’s shoulder.

“Wait a minute.” Jack arrested the valet before he could leave. “You mean his f—the k—you mean he’s been put in that thing before?” Wilt’s gaze dropped. “How many times?”

Wilt shrugged. “Two? Maybe three. But never this long. Usually only a few hours.”

_A few HOURS?_

Wilt waited, but when Jack said nothing more, he went back to the prince’s room to light more candles.

Jack couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move from where he sat. He was fuming, blood boiling. He didn’t realize he had tightened an arm around Angus, didn’t notice that one hand was running through the wet blond hair. He also didn’t realize when he started muttering aloud. “How could he—how could _anyone_ do that?”

“It was my fault.”

Jack looked down, shocked. Angus had stopped crying, but his eyes still glittered with unshed tears.

“I—I was bad. That’s why I had to go to the closet. My fault.”

If Jack had to identify his worst flaw, it would be his inability to keep his mouth shut when he should.

“There is no way that was your fault, son. No way.” Big blue eyes were staring up at him now. “No matter what you did, no one has the right to treat you like that. Not even your father.”

“But—”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “ _He_ was wrong. Not you. A few hours is bad enough, but to forget about you for two days? That is completely wrong. Do you understand me?”

Angus was still staring as if spellbound by Jack’s words, but he gave no sign of either agreement or disagreement.

“And I’m going to tell him that.” Jack had no idea how or why those words flew out of his mouth, and he was cursing himself as soon as they did. He was just a soldier. He had no right to interfere between the king and his son. He might just end up making things worse for the poor boy.

The prince’s eyes had gone impossibly wider. “N-no!” he stammered. “No, don’t. Please! Please, he’ll—maybe he won’t notice I’m—I’m not where he left me. Just please don’t tell him. Please.”

It was more words than Jack had heard out of him all night.

“Shh. It’s all right. I won’t go looking for trouble, okay?” Jack hugged the small form and felt his chest tighten when Angus nuzzled closer to him. He rubbed the prince’s back and heard the sharp hiss when he accidently pressed too hard on the lash marks.

_Oh, son, there is no way I can promise not to interfere. Someone has to stop the king before he kills you._

After a few minutes, Jack murmured, “How about we get you to bed?”

He didn’t receive a response, so assuming Angus had no objection, he levered himself to his feet, still holding the boy. He entered the royal sleeping chamber again, noting with satisfaction that Wilt took his job very seriously and had lit every candle in the room. The valet himself was slumped in a chair on one side of the room, almost asleep.

Jack carried the prince to the bed, but when he tried to lower him, he found the boy’s arms were locked immovably around his neck. Jack sat down instead, resuming the petting of the mostly dry hair that seemed to comfort Angus.

Wilt yawned, sat up, and smiled at Jack. The knight couldn’t keep himself from smiling back at the likable young servant.

“Thanks for—you know, for helping,” Bozer said quietly, moving to stand next to the bed.

“You’re a good friend, Wilt Bozer,” Jack said solemnly, and Wilt smiled again before his face was split by another yawn.

“Where do you usually sleep, lad?”

Wilt gestured vaguely. “My quarters are down the hall. But I should clean the—”

“You should get some sleep,” Jack interrupted. “Angus, don’t you think your valet should go get some rest?”

The prince pried himself away from Jack’s shoulder long enough to look over and nod. “Thanks, Wilt,” he whispered.

Wilt grinned. “Anytime, bud.” He glanced back at Jack doubtfully.

“I’ll stay until—as long as he wants,” Jack assured him.

Satisfied, Wilt patted the prince’s arm and then slipped soundlessly out the door.

“Must be nice to have such a good friend around, huh?”

Jack didn’t really expect an answer; he was just hoping to help the prince relax a little. So he was surprised when Angus spoke up.

“He isn’t my friend. He’s paid to be nice to me.”

This was said in such a flat, matter-of-fact voice that Jack was stunned into silence for several moments.

He finally roused himself. “I’m sure that’s not—”

“My father says people in our position don’t have friends. Everyone only wants things from us.”

“Oh, Angus.” Jack’s hand stilled, cupping the golden head. “That is such b—bull feathers.” The boy glanced up. “Yes, you do have to be careful—you are a prince—but that doesn’t mean that everyone is out for themselves. Not everyone wants to take advantage.” Jack tucked the boy under his chin. “There are some good people out there.” _Just none in your family, as far as I can tell._

Angus was silent, but it seemed to Jack that it was a thoughtful silence.

“Take young Wilt, for example. Do you think he’s just trying to get things from you?”

“He’s never asked me for anything,” Angus replied slowly. “But…”

“You think he’s just biding his time? Let me tell you, son, that boy loves you. I saw him tonight, waiting right by your side. He didn’t do that because he expects a reward. He did it because you’re his friend.”

Angus was shaking his head. “No, I don’t de—” He stopped himself, but Jack caught the meaning all too clearly.

“Your father tell you that you don’t deserve friends?” he demanded, a little too harshly.

Angus flinched. “N-no, just said…just said no one would—no one would want—”

Jack sighed. “Angus, I want you to try something. Every time you remember what your father says, think to yourself: _Maybe he’s wrong._ Do you think you can do that?”

The prince was staring as though the man had turned into a talking frog. “What?”

“Your father says people just want to take advantage? Maybe he’s wrong. He says you don’t deserve friends? Maybe he’s wrong. He says you should be punished?” Jack forced his voice not to waver. “Maybe he’s wrong.”

Angus’s mouth had fallen open. “He—he’s the king.”

“That doesn’t mean he knows everything. Doesn’t mean he’s always right. From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty smart yourself.”

Angus blushed. “My father says I shouldn’t spend so much time reading and—”

“And what are we going to say about that?”

Angus blinked.

“Come on, son, you can do it.”

“Maybe—maybe he’s wrong?”

“That’s it.” Jack squeezed the boy, feeling warmth blossom in his chest when Angus hugged him back. _And if the king had any smarts at all, if he were any kind of father, he’d be the one in here holding this amazing boy. How could anyone forget about a special kid like this?_

“Do you think you can sleep now? I think Wilt lit this place up pretty good. It’ll stay light enough until the sun comes up.” Jack tipped his head in the direction of the huge curtained windows.

Angus followed the gesture with his eyes, taking in the brightness in the room. “Okay.” But he didn’t release his hold on Jack’s tunic.

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?” No one expected Jack back at his regiment until morning, so the knight figured he could stay a little longer.

Angus tilted his head as though he only half agreed.

After a moment of hesitation, Jack offered, “Do you want me to stay until you wake up?”

This garnered a response. Angus nodded timidly.

“All right. Let’s get you comfortable, okay?” The boy didn’t let go, so Jack finally kicked off his boots and stretched out in the large bed. Angus dropped with him, resting his head on the knight’s chest. “Okay. Just try to sleep now, all right?”

Jack caressed the blond locks nestled under his chin until the boy’s breathing evened out. Jack found himself being soothed by the tiny warm body snuggled next to him, the steady flutter of the child’s heartbeat, even the small fist slowly loosening its grasp on his tunic. Before Jack knew it, he was asleep too.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jack awoke, pearly gray half-light was stealing into the room through the gaps in the curtains. It took a moment before he remembered where he was, surprised at the sumptuous bed and well-appointed room. He started to sit up and then felt the weight on his chest. He looked down.

Angus was curled into his side, fast asleep. He was obviously too thin, and his eyes were shadowed, but otherwise, he looked like any other child his age—innocent and adorable. Jack slowly lifted a hand to ruffle the blond hair, knowing that this poor boy had experienced far too much heartache in his young life to really be innocent anymore.

“Mmm.”

Jack froze when the prince sighed, but Angus didn’t wake even as his hands gripped Jack’s tunic. The boy hummed again, softly, and Jack felt tears sting his eyes when he saw the child was smiling.

_It takes so little to make a kid happy. What kind of monster takes away his son’s joy and replaces it with fear?_

Angus shivered, and Jack pulled the coverlet up around his shoulders. The child smiled again, yawned, and then slowly blinked open his eyes.

Jack was prepared for the boy to be surprised at his presence, unsure how much the prince would remember. He was _not_ prepared for the way Angus went rigid after a startled glance up at the knight, nor for the racing heartbeat he could feel almost pounding out of the thin chest. Angus began shaking, tiny tremors that he was clearly trying to control, and Jack thought his heart might break.

“It’s all right, Your Highness,” he crooned, not daring to use the familiar name, even though the boy was literally cradled in his arms. “You’re safe, nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m your—I’m not going to hurt you.”

Angus was still trembling as Jack sat up, bringing the boy with him, but the frightened blue eyes looked up with a gleam of intelligence.

“You—last night. Sword.”

Jack nodded. “That was me. Pretty impressive what you did with that door, s—Angus.”

Angus glanced away, but he seemed pleased even as he shrugged off the compliment. “Practice.”

_Oh._

Before he realized what he was doing, Jack had wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, pulling him closer and resting his cheek on the child’s head.

“I am so sorry, buddy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry that any of this happened to you. I’m sorry that—”

“Sir?”

Jack loosened his hold so he could meet the prince’s eyes. “It’s Jack. You can call me Jack.”

Angus paused as though he were testing the name in his head before trying it aloud. “Jack.”

“There you go, son.”

“Jack, I—” Angus hesitated. “Thank you for…You should go. Before someone…” The prince darted a look toward the door but then completed the sentence. “Before someone misses you.”

Jack was sure that wasn’t what the child had been thinking, but he responded anyway. “It isn’t quite dawn yet, son. I’ll be fine for a little while.” He took a deep breath, but Angus hadn’t pushed him away, so he spoke again. “I’m more worried about you.”

He wanted to cry at the absolute shock on the prince’s face, as though he couldn’t believe that anyone would worry about him.

“Why?” Angus asked bluntly.

“I…guess I don’t have a good answer for that, Angus. I haven’t known you long, but you seem like a nice kid, smart—and tough. And your mom was the best queen I ever knew.” Jack’s voice softened with memories. “But I think mostly it’s because no child should ever go through what you have.”

Jack could see the wheels turning in the boy’s mind.

“Maybe…you’re a good person? Like Wilt?”

Jack heard the real question behind the words, and he huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think I’m as good a person as your friend Wilt—or you—but I would be honored to be your friend.”

The blue eyes were glowing, and Jack realized with a pang that the prince’s sum total of friends had just doubled. And Jack wouldn’t even be part of the kid’s life after today.

“And as your friend, I want to help you. Make sure you’ll be safe.”

“I—I’ll be fine, Jack.”

“Angus. Look at me.” He waited until the prince complied. “The way you have been treated is _not_ fine. I need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The hope in the boy’s eyes was enough to melt Jack’s heart. “What—what are you going to do?”

Jack rubbed the child’s back. “I think maybe I need to have a talk with your father.”

“What? No!” Angus started so violently that he yanked himself out of Jack’s grasp, landing on the bed a few feet away. “No, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t—”

“Angus. Hey, Angus. Your Highness!” Jack finally caught the young royal’s attention. “It’s all right,” he soothed, hating that he had caused the look of wide-eyed terror. “Come here, son. It’s all right.” He stretched out his hands, and the boy slowly let himself be pulled back into Jack’s embrace.

“Please, Jack, you won’t…will you? Please?”

The child was sniffling, and without thinking, Jack lifted a hand to gently wipe the tears from the pale cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“Aw, no, son, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t have any right to interfere in your life.” But even as he said it, Jack knew this wouldn’t stop him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s forehead, trying not to think about the amazement that lit the child’s face at this display of affection, and tucked the prince back under his chin.

“Okay, Angus, how about this? I won’t talk to your father.”

Angus began nodding forcefully.

“But I won’t be around to protect you, so I need to do something.”

“P-protect me?”

“Kid, do you think I’m gonna let this happen to you again? That isn’t something a friend would do, now is it?”

Jack backed away slightly so he could see the boy’s expression. Angus was chewing on his lip.

“It isn’t,” Jack asserted when Angus didn’t answer. “And I promise I’m not going to let you get hurt anymore.”

“But—”

“No, Angus, listen. I have an idea. If we get some help from some of the nobles in the court, that should be enough.”

Angus seemed to shrink. “No. No, I can’t—”

“Son.” Jack waited until he had the prince’s full attention. “You can. I’ve already seen how brave and strong and smart you are. I believe in you.” Angus was hanging on his every word. “I’ll find some nobles that I know and bring them here. Then I’ll tell them what happened and just ask them to look out for you, all right? You don’t have to say anything. But I don’t think they’ll believe me unless they see you for themselves. Do you think you can do that?”

Fear was written large on the child’s face, but his lips set determinedly. “They’re…your friends?”

“Well, not friends exactly, but I’ll find some people who want to do the right thing. I know it hasn’t been your experience, but there are more of those than you’d think.”

Angus was chewing on his lip again, but he wasn’t saying no.

“You can trust me, Angus. I won’t let your father hurt you again.”

The words were soft, but they were enough. Angus looked up, his eyes wet but steady. “I trust you, Jack.”

Jack felt a rush of dizzying emotion, and he hugged the boy until he felt able to stand without falling. “I’ll be right back, okay? Here.” He reached for the pitcher and poured some water into the waiting chalice. “Try to drink this. I won’t be gone long.”

Angus looked tiny and forlorn in the huge bed, but he accepted the cup with both hands, drinking eagerly. Jack looked down at him fondly. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

The knight’s smile dropped when he stole out into the hall. He had tried to sound confident in front of the young prince, but really, this was an insane plan. He preferred his own idea of confronting the king directly, but Angus was probably right. Jack would end up with his head on a pike, and the boy would be even worse off than he was now. But if Jack could get enough of the nobility—people who actually mattered to the royal family—to take notice, the king would have to stop abusing his son.

He sure hoped so, anyway.

Fortune was smiling on him that morning. He moved unseen through the castle until he reached the front hall, and almost immediately, he spotted three nobles entering, conferring quietly. The elite guards knew most of the members of court by sight, and he recognized Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston, three advisers to the king. If Jack remembered correctly, these three had something to do with the archives, which explained why Bremer carried a scroll, holding it open for the other two to study while they walked together. They also carried no weapons and had no accompanying bodyguards, which would have scared Angus more. Jack couldn’t have wished for more perfect witnesses.

He took a deep breath and approached them. “My lord. My lady. My lord.” He bowed low, his presence clearly startling the three academics.

“Knight?”

Lady Carruthers frowned in concentration. “Sir…Dalton, is it?”

“Yes, my lady. Sir Jack Dalton, at your service.” Jack bowed again.

The three nobles shuffled, apparently not sure what service the knight planned to perform for them.

“My lords, my lady, I…must make a request. On behalf of the prince.”

“Prince Angus?” Falston’s eyebrows shot up. Very few people had contact with the boy. He himself couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the royal heir.

“Yes, my lord. I beg your indulgence, but I assure you it is of the utmost importance. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying me?”

“This is irregular—” Lady Carruthers began, but Bremer interrupted.

“I remember you. You were at the Battle of Ainsley, weren’t you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“My brother was there,” Bremer said softly. “He wrote me letters, mentioned all the men he served with.”

“I remember your brother, my lord.”

“He—didn’t make it home, you know.”

“Yes, my lord. My condolences. He was a fine leader.”

Bremer was silent for another moment, his colleagues gazing at him in sympathy, before he nodded sharply. “If Sir Dalton says this is important, I am inclined to believe him. Shall we?”

Lady Carruthers and Lord Falston nodded and fell into line behind Jack and Bremer. Jack led them as quickly as possible through the halls, knowing that at any moment, they would begin bustling with life.

When he cautiously eased the prince’s door open, his heart stopped for a second. The bed was empty. He scanned the room a bit wildly, certain the boy had gotten scared and run.

Then the blankets on the bed shifted, and a tousled blond head popped out. Jack nearly sagged in relief.

“Hey, Your Highness,” he said softly.

The boy’s eyes lit up when they landed on Jack. He looked both astonished and happy—no, _ecstatic_ —that Jack had returned as promised. Then the blue eyes slid over to the newcomers, and Angus shrank back.

“I’ve brought some nice people to meet you, Your Highness. Remember what we talked about?”

The three nobles were watching the rather lopsided interaction, but if they were surprised at the soldier’s suddenly gentle demeanor and tender voice, they said nothing.

Angus slowly nodded, and Jack approached the bed. Angus scooted over immediately to make room for him, but Jack needed to establish that he was not taking liberties with the royal heir.

“Is it all right if I sit here, Your Highness?”

The boy’s face scrunched in puzzlement for a moment at Jack’s formality, but then he glanced over at their visitors, and his brow cleared in understanding.

“You—have my permission,” he said gravely, struggling to force his voice to work in front of strangers.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Jack sat, and he badly wanted to reach out and hug the boy, but he knew he needed to wait. “Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston have come to meet you. My lords, my lady, this is Prince Angus.”

The three nobles snapped out of their trance. Bremer and Falston bowed low, and Lady Carruthers curtsied gracefully. “Your Highness,” they murmured.

Angus nodded back, looking uncomfortable but not frightened, so Jack found the courage to plunge ahead.

“My lords, my lady…I am requesting your help. For the prince.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Anything we can do, Your Highness.”

“We are at your service, Your Highness.”

Jack hoped the obsequious attitudes wouldn’t fade when they learned that helping the prince meant standing against the king.

The knight took another deep breath, steeling himself. He looked over at the child next to him, and his sense of purpose strengthened. He would protect this boy at any cost.

“Do I have your permission to proceed, Your Highness?” He willed the prince not to lose his nerve now.

Angus locked eyes with Jack before reaching out a hand. Jack allowed the small fingers to wrap themselves around his large, calloused hand, and he squeezed.

Angus looked over at the nobles and then back at Jack. “You have my permission,” he said again, just loud enough to be heard.

So Jack told them. He told them that people close to the royal inner circle needed to watch out for the prince. And he told them why. Throughout the recital, he kept his voice as level as he could, which he only managed by rubbing his thumb in circles on the small hand in his. As long as Angus could stay strong, so could he.

Falston was already shaking his head in disbelief. Bremer brought over a chair for Lady Carruthers, who sank into it, face blank.

“Sir Dalton, Your Highness…” Bremer trailed off uncertainly.

“I know it’s a lot to process—a lot to accept. But—” Jack met the prince’s eyes for the first time since he’d started speaking. The blue eyes were huge and filled with tears, but otherwise, the boy was holding himself together remarkably well. Jack squeezed his hand again fondly. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured so only the child could hear.

Angus managed a small smile.

“Can you be brave just a little longer?”

The boy was quick to understand. After some internal debate, Angus granted permission with a tiny nod, but he held out his arms to Jack.

The knight scooped him up immediately, ignoring the curious looks he received from the three nobles.

“My lords, my lady…you can see for yourself.” Jack reluctantly lifted the boy’s shirt, revealing the striped back. Angus shivered when the cool air touched his skin, and he buried his face in Jack’s shoulder.

Lady Carruthers gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Bremer looked away. Falston frowned.

Jack smoothed the tunic back down, hugging the boy a little tighter. “That’s it, son, you did good.”

“That’s…from his _father_?” Lady Carruthers said in barely more than a whisper. “King James?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Falston was still frowning. “As much as I disapprove, it is hardly our place to interfere with the way a man disciplines his son.” The _especially when that man is the king_ was implied.

Jack fought the hot spike of anger. “And do you also disapprove of locking a child in a cabinet for two days and two nights with no food or water?”

Falston began stammering. “W-wh-”

“He might still be in there if—” Jack found he couldn’t continue. _He could have died in there._ And that thought was so awful, so painful, that Jack suddenly realized his tears were slipping into the boy’s hair, and he was holding on to the child for all he was worth.

Angus looked up and used a small hand to wipe Jack’s cheeks, eliciting a smile from the knight.

Lady Carruthers spoke gently. “Sir Dalton, you are clearly very attached to the young prince—and he to you. Do you think perhaps your judgment might be…?” She trailed off delicately.

Jack scowled fiercely. He should have known that nobles who learned and studied for a living wouldn’t be so easy to convince.

“Hey, son, I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?” he murmured in the boy’s ear. Aloud, he said, “Your Highness, can you tell the lady and gentlemen why your f—why you were put in the closet?”

Angus hung his head. “I was being punished,” he said with such self-loathing in his voice that Jack wanted to shake him.

But the nobles were listening closely, and he had to continue this awful interrogation. “Can you tell us why?”

This was a gamble. Jack had no idea what Angus might have done to incite his father’s wrath, but _nothing_ the child could have done deserved what he had received. And Jack’s gut was telling him that the prince had probably done nothing at all. He rubbed the boy’s back, and Angus seemed to draw strength from his touch.

“I—I was playing horseshoes. With Wilt.”

“His valet,” Jack supplied in an undertone.

But Angus didn’t continue. As it dawned on the adults that this was the end of the story, Lady Carruthers looked down, a knuckle pressed to her lips. Falston also looked away, but Bremer took a step forward.

“You were punished for playing a game with your servant?” His voice was kind but inquisitive, as though he had discovered a new type of garden toad.

Somehow, it was the right tone to use with Angus. “It could have been the game, or it could have been Wilt. I don’t know how long he was there, watching. But I think it was probably…” The prince’s matter-of-fact voice trembled, and he looked away from Bremer. “I lost.”

It was all Jack could do to keep himself from storming into the king’s chambers right then and giving him a taste of what he’d been doing to Angus. _He beat you to hell because you lost a game?_

Lady Carruthers stood, sudden determination in her face. “What do we need to do, Sir Dalton? How can we help keep the prince safe?”

Bremer blinked, but then he nodded firmly. Falston looked a little ill, but he said, “Just say the word. We’ll—we’ll do it.”

_Hallelujah._

“I think you might need to have a quiet word with the king.” In Jack’s arms, Angus stiffened, but the knight squeezed him close and continued. “If you let him know that you have some concerns about his son’s well-being, he’ll probably back off. He won’t want anyone else to know…”

Bremer was nodding. “That does sound like our king,” he agreed. But then he looked at the boy still cuddled in Jack’s embrace, and his voice gentled. “Is that acceptable to you, Your Highness? We have an audience with the king today.” He held up the scroll, a useless gesture, since Angus still had his head burrowed in Jack’s chest. “We can mention our… _concerns_ to him today. With your permission.”

The room was entirely silent, and Jack thought the other three adults were holding their breath just as he was.

“Angus?” he finally prompted, voice a mere whisper in the boy’s ear.

The prince sat up slowly, reluctantly prying himself away from Jack’s warmth. He glanced at the three nobles hovering nearby.

“Yes.”

At the collective sigh, Angus smiled just a little, and Jack hugged him once more. “I’m so proud of you, son,” he murmured again.

The three nobles quickly took their leave, seeming shaken but determined, and Jack felt a rush of gratitude that there truly were good people in the world. Maybe he could keep his promise to the prince after all. Maybe he would be safe.

“Angus? I’m sorry, buddy, but I have to go.” The sun was bright behind the heavy curtains, and Jack was pretty sure he was already late.

The child clung to him more tightly, and at that moment, Jack would have given anything to be posted in the palace where he could watch out for the boy.

“Will you come back?”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not going to lie to you, son. Probably not. I’m not usually assigned nearby.” He cupped a hand around the boy’s head and dropped a kiss on the soft blond hair. “But I am never going to forget you.”

Angus sniffed, but he seemed resigned. “I won’t forget you either, Jack.”

The knight grinned. “Friends forever, right?” He held out his fist, and Angus stared at it for a while before figuring out what he was supposed to do.

“Friends,” the prince agreed shyly, bumping his tiny fist against Jack’s larger one.

“I’m gonna make sure your valet is awake before I leave. Make sure he gets you something to eat, okay?” Angus nodded. “And, son? Take care of yourself, all right?”

There was so much Jack wanted to say but couldn’t, but the boy met his eyes and seemed to understand anyway. “I will, Jack.”

For the next several weeks, Jack took extreme pains to overhear any royal gossip he could, no easy feat since his fellow soldiers were accustomed to his complete disinterest in such rumors. He heard that King James had declared his son grossly incompetent and had washed his hands of the boy. Jack seethed, but Angus would prove them all wrong with his brilliance eventually. At least he was safely away from his father.

A few months later, Jack heard that there had been an “accident” in the archives. Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston had been crushed underneath heavy stands of scrolls. Jack wished they could be honored by the royal guard. They had served their prince loyally—and bravely.

_Someday I’m coming back to you, kid,_ Jack thought, surprising himself with the vehemence of the vow. _Someday I’ll come for you, and you’ll know that your father can’t control everyone around you. Just hang on until I can get there, okay, son?_

No matter how long it took, Jack would keep his promise to protect the prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 6/17/19 to remove the mention of Angus's grandfather for the sake of the other works in the series


End file.
